


how a diving bell is made

by weatheredlaw



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Body Image, Body Worship, F/M, Freckles, Love Confessions, Non-Explicit Sex, Scars, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 18:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8811634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: He deposits himself at her feet like a man at the well. Tina offers, and he receives.





	

**Author's Note:**

> okay so there's a prompt in my inbox that this is for, sort of. i don't know if i did this right but. a confident newt was needed here, especially around a tina who's just coming to terms with being loved _this much._ it's a lot of love, he's got. anyway, please enjoy. um i think i got carried away.

The clock on the wall has _never_ been an appropriate indicator of anything in this world except for Tina’s horrendous taste in home décor. It’s rather garish, considering the rest of the apartment, and never right – a dozen enchantments had proved the thing either cursed or damaged beyond repair, so the Goldstein sisters had learned long ago to simply consider anyone invited to their home on time, unless they said otherwise.

Newt, though, is certainly late, even beyond the standards of the derelict owl-shaped clock, with its soft hourly _who’s_.

Tina is trying hard not to read into all of this – it gets her into trouble, navigating between the lines of their relationship, trying to find fault where there is none, apathy where it does not exist. Newt is the truest person Tina has ever known. He is the most egalitarian, forward thinking, _principled_ man she’s ever met. And he chooses to spend large swaths of his time in New York with her.

If Queenie were here, she’d tut. She’d click her tongue, tip her head to side, and say something pure, something to cheer up her sister. Tina can’t think of anything she might say, in this moment, but it would be uniquely Queenie, and probably work, for a while. But Queenie is out of the city with Jacob, and Tina is left to her own devices, wondering about the man who’d so swiftly nabbed her heart out of its resting place with two cautious hands.

 _Like stealing an egg from a dragon’s nest,_ Queenie had said. _That’s what he thinks, sometimes._

She hears the familiar _tap-tap_ of his wand against the lower floors, and a quick look through the curtains shows him there, bathed in lamp-light, watching her from under neglected bangs. Mrs. Esposito is asleep, blessedly, but she has certainly seen Newt Scamander walking up the stairs before tonight. A signed copy of a certain wizard’s book had been enough to placate her for a while.

“I couldn’t get here sooner,” he says sheepishly, once they’re safely behind locked doors. “There was a mishap at MACUSA, something about a minor house elf revolt. Did you know your house elves are _unionized?_ I find that fascinating—” He cuts himself off, giving her a swift kiss on the forehead. “Where’s Queenie?”

“Out of the city with Jacob.”

“Visiting his family?”

Tina shakes her head. “No. I don’t…think Jacob has much family.”

Newt pauses, half-way out of his coat, staring at no discernible spot on the sitting room floor. “Oh,” he says. “I…hadn’t considered that.” He looks up. “I feel like a bit of a prat, now.”

Tina shakes her head, going to him and cupping his cheek in her hand, pressing her lips to his. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. Are you hungry?”

“Starved, actually.” And he follows her, hand in hand, into the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

After, she pulls him to the couch and rests his head in her lap. For all that she wonders _why_ he chooses to be here, Tina is always grateful that he _does_ , watching him close his eyes as she strokes his forehead.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he murmurs.

“If you’d just let me give it a trim.”

He opens one eye, looking her over. “I thought there was nothing you didn’t like about me, Ms. Goldstein.”

“Hair can be regrown, Newt.” She kisses his temple. “But if you’re going to insist on looking wild and uncouth—”

“Is that what your coworkers say about me?” He opens both eyes. “‘Who is that man with Ms. Goldstein? He looks so _wild_ and _uncouth._ ’”

“Hush,” she says, and moves down toward his mouth. Newt lifts his chin quickly to meet her there, slowly pushing himself up. It’s an awkward position until he maneuvers her into his lap, and holds her steady.

He’s so good at this, so purely romantic in the most singular, surprising moments, that Tina forgets about the other parts of him that are—

“ _My niffler_ ,” he says, jettisoning the two of them off the sofa.

—like that.

Tina sits, a crumpled pile of woman and skirt on the floor, watching Newt bound through the apartment, tackling the creature to the ground.

“ _Pest_ ,” Newt says, always fondly, and looks over his case. “You must stop this.”

“Can’t you _leave_ him somewhere?”

“Hm?” Newt looks up, having clearly forgotten precisely where he was, as if surprised to see Tina there, straightening her blouse and looking rather disapprovingly at the both of them. “Oh. Oh, no,” he says. “Absolutely not.”

“Newt.”

“I can’t leave the case with anyone, and I can’t leave him _out_ of it. He’s not a zoo animal. There’s no…no _local niffler rescue_ where he can be deposited at.”

“Why do you keep him then?” Tina asks, kneeling down to help undo the ropes. They’re not nearly tight enough, a consequence, she suspects, of Newt being unwilling to bind his creatures any more than he has to.

“Because.” He deposits the niffler inside, latching it closed and securing the knots. “He won’t leave me.”

“Like Pickett.”

“In a way.” He rocks back on his heels, running a thumb over the warn leather. “I rescued him, you see. People like nifflers, like to keep them around to pilfer and steal. And when they don’t do it the right way, some…some aren’t so kind. He was part of a ring of sorts. And I saved him.” He looks at Tina. “I’ve tried releasing him, or rehoming him a dozen times, but…he finds his way back.” A hand reaches up to cup her cheek, and Tina folds into it, closing her eyes. “Or perhaps _I’m_ the one doing all the finding,” he murmurs.

“Is that why you come here?” she asks, emboldened.

“No,” he says. “I think…I think you’re something a bit different for me.” Newt pushes the case out of the way, moving closer to her. He never towers, she realizes. He always moves to her level, always keeps them on even footing. Just his way, she supposes.

He kisses her, both hands behind her head, drawing her so close, holding her to him. Tina grasps the lapel of his jacket, buries one hand in his hair as she drinks and drinks and _drinks –_

“You’re my diving bell, Tina.” He gasps this against her mouth, eyes shut tight. “I think I was drowning before.”

“Before what?”

Newt opens his eyes. “Before _you._ ”

 

* * *

 

Her Newt is a shoreline, a place to be anchored to. Tina crashes, and there is peace. They are a shared wreckage, but they are both fine with that. He pleads her name into shadow and draws his teeth along her neck. Her hammering heart threatens to expose them to the world, but Newt stills it with his lips pressed over her chest, tongue and mouth moving along her sternum.

He deposits himself at her feet like a man at the well. Tina offers, and he receives.

“I love you,” she says. “ _I love you, I love you_ —”

“ _Tina_ —”

His chest is dotted with freckles. From below him, Tina maps a constellation of their own life along scarred and moonlit skin. She looks up, and she is found. A hand over his heart. It reminds her that there is _life_ beyond the four walls of her own existence. Newt rushes into the burnt out, empty spaces of her heart and _breathes_ into them, and Tina gasps into the night and begs and does not know where to place her herself among the dotted lines of their own existence.

He holds her close, and he says in her ear, “I do love being home,” just as Tina crests and her head falls back, the world narrowing in on this momentary rush of _sheer love_ that heats her from the inside out, threatening to implode the tiniest universe ever shared by two people.

She looks at him, mouth open, pushing his hair back away from his face to see him proper.

“Home…” is all she manages, before crumpling against him, shivering in the dark.

“You,” he says. “Tina, don’t you know?”

_My diving bell. My north star. My love, my love, my love –_

Home.

 

* * *

 

She wilts under his gaze, folding her arms over her exposed chest. Newt laughs.

“I think you’re beautiful, don’t you know?”

“There’s to be none of that.”

He leans forward, humming against her neck. “We just made love,” he says. “And you’re going to hide from me?”

“There is no hiding from you,” Tina murmurs, and allows herself to be seen. She reaches out to draw a hand over his back, fingers seeking out familiar raised skin that is rough under her fingers. “Tell me about this one again.”

“From my nundu,” he says. “A very long story. Might be its own book.”

Tina laughs, continues seeking them out. “And this one?”

“Occamy mother bite.”

“And this?”

“Fell down the stairs at school, third year.”

“…And this?” A rounder scar, just at his shoulder.

Newt looks at her, carding his fingers through her hair. “A man in Egypt,” he says. “When I took Frank.” He pauses. “It was fresh, still, when I first met you. Not magical,” he adds. “He had a gun.”

Tina flinches. “Oh.”

“It’s alright. It didn’t hurt for long.”

Tina traces it with her thumb before pressing her lips to his shoulder. “Newt…”

“I will always have scars, Tina. And there will always be a world ready to hand them out. Besides—” He touches her rib cage, under her left arm. “You have a few of your own.”

“It’s because I’m stupid,” she says flatly. Newt laughs. “You’ve seen me at it, Mr. Scamander.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid at all,” he says. “I think you’re very brave.”

Tina shrugs. “Easy to get them confused.”

“Why do you do that to yourself?”

“Do what?”

Newt stretches next to her, tugging her closer and laying him across her chest. “You sell yourself short.”

“As if you aren’t guilty of the same.”

“Yes, but when I’m…when I’m with you…” He breathes. “I don’t know. I feel…better. About myself. About my place in this world. Like there’s more of it to be had.”

“You? The man who’s seen every beast imaginable, who came here from Argentina and before that India and before that—”

“Just because the world is big,” he says, “doesn’t mean much. I love you, Tina. I love you because you make my world that much bigger.”

She closes her eyes. She must start guarding herself from these sort of declarations. She forgets he’s a writer, too, atop all the hair and muddy boots.

“Tina…”

“You have no idea what it was like before,” she says.

Newt nods. “I know. But I have some idea.”

“You’re _my_ diving bell,” she breathes, and the sob that escapes her is not welcome here, hasn’t been _invited_ into this space, should not be allowed in their growing world. But Newt takes it. He kisses her and swallows it, chases the tears that stream down her cheeks. Her chest expands, the air inside it suddenly burning, and Tina needs to feel and be held.

So she does. And she is.

And in his hands, she finds there is a bit more warmth than usual.

_My diving bell, my north star, my love, my love, my love –_

Home.

 

* * *

 

In the morning, she discovers her Newt is a very excellent cook, if the meal is pancakes.

“A man of singular talents,” he muses.

“I will take this talent. Two, please.”

“I can make a _mountain_ of them.”

“Save it for the holidays,” she murmurs, stepping behind him and wrapping her arms around his chest.

He looks over his shoulder. “Are you wearing my shirt?”

“I’m very cold.”

“You have a dozen of your own that are perfectly warm.” He tugs out his wand, and Tina clasps the button-up closed around her.

“Newt Scamander, don’t you _dare_ ,” she says, and he gives chase around the apartment before carefully tackling her to the sofa. Soft hands pry her own from the buttons, and Tina feels that familiar flush crawl over her neck. She looks away.

“Tina…”

“I’m not…used to this.”

“To what?”

“To you,” she says plainly. “The way you…you look at me.”

“I look at you like anyone does—”

“You call me home,” she says. “You call me your _salvation_. How am I supposed to feel under all that?”

Newt pulls his hands away, standing rather quickly. Tina feels exposed on the sofa, and sits up a straight.

“Is it so much, then? Do I weigh on your heart so heavily?”

“Newt…”

“If you need me to be more careful, I will. If you’d like me to hesitate, then I will. If you’d prefer I consider my options before choosing what to feel about you, Tina, _I will._ But please don’t ask me not to love you at all.” He reaches for her cheek. “I don’t think my heart could bear it.”

“I want you to love me,” she says. “I do, honestly—”

“Then please.” He drops to his knees, just between her own, and takes her hands in his, turning her palms upward. “ _Please._ Let me. I will call you anything you’d like, but let me have you, Tina.” He kisses her hands. “You have _me_ , don’t you see that?” He gasps against her skin, and Tina can’t help but draw him close, resting her chin on top of his head. He breathes against skin and cloth, cheeks wet with tears. “I am yours, completely.”

“I know that.”

It isn’t a lie. Tina has seen his workshop. She knows whose photo sits in the frame. She knows where her Newt’s heart lies. She knows this.

She knows it all as surely as she knows she loves him.

That she is his.

“I love you,” she murmurs, kissing the top of his head. “I love you.”

 

* * *

 

He stands at the edge of the road and the walk, looking down at their shoes. “My brother is coming here at the end of the month.”

“Oh.”

“I thought I’d accompany him. There are a few local sights I wanted him to see.” He looks at her. “Your home, for starters.”

“Are you sure he wasn’t invited?”

“No, no. Very dull Ministry business, apparently. But he’s keen to meet you. I’m not sure he thinks you’re real, actually.”

“Then we’ll have to do our best to prove him wrong.”

“I quite like that idea.” He leans forward, kissing her almost carefully. “Forgive me,” he says, “if I hurt you.”

“You didn’t. I take care of that myself.” She grips his coat between both hands, holding him close to her. “A woman of singular talents.”

“My Tina,” he murmurs.

“My Newt.” He laughs, and Tina says, “Please promise you’ll be alright out there, until I see you again.”

“I will do my very best, so long as you try to do the same.”

“I’ll try.”

“That is the most we can say about it, then.” He kisses her forehead. “I need to go,” he adds. “I’m already very late for a meeting I think was supposed to start an hour ago.”

“ _Newt!_ ”

“You’re very distracting,” he argues.

“Go!” she says, giving him a shove. “Go on!”

“Alright, _alright._ ” He sighs. “But I will be back very soon.”

“Newt.”

“ _Fine._ ” He kisses her cheek one last time before ducking around a corner. Tina hears the tell-tale wind of Apparation and watches the skies.

Clouds are rolling in, she thinks, but that’s alright. She turns around and heads back up the stairs to the apartment.

“Alone again?” Mrs. Esposito calls, a knowing smile in her tone.

Tina stops at the top of the stairs. “Just for a while, Mrs. Esposito.” She opens the door to the apartment. “Just until next time.”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @weatheredlaw


End file.
